


give me some more

by callunavulgari



Series: Holiday Writing Challenge '12 [23]
Category: Persona 3
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Comeplay, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minato gets sick more than the rest of you. For the most part everyone chalks it up to how hard he works himself in Tartarus. Everyone tends to put in their fair share of work—after all, it’s kind of hard not to when the other option is getting maimed by a group of shadows, but Minato takes it to a whole new level. Sometimes you watch him during fights and the passion that he tends to put into them is awe-inspiring. You may have been wary to accept the kid as leader at first, but after the first few levels it had been hard to deny that the kid was the natural choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me some more

**Author's Note:**

> Day 23 of the Holiday Writing Challenge on tumblr [over here](http://giraffe-tier.tumblr.com/post/35469673249/winter-drawing-writing-challenge). Prompt was 'sick'. I have been wanting to write sweaty, hot sick!sex between these two since I played the damn game, so when I got the sick prompt, I decided that it was an excuse to write porn. Title is from [the sexiest fucking song ever.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zh3eG7HgnCM)

Minato gets sick more than the rest of you. For the most part everyone chalks it up to how hard he works himself in Tartarus. Everyone tends to put in their fair share of work—after all, it’s kind of hard not to when the other option is getting maimed by a group of shadows, but Minato takes it to a whole new level. Sometimes you watch him during fights and the passion that he tends to put into them is awe-inspiring. You may have been wary to accept the kid as leader at first, but after the first few levels it had been hard to deny that the kid was the natural choice.  
  
But the problem is that he burns himself out, pushing all of you to your utmost limits and beyond. He’s great about turning around to head back if one of you starts feeling tired, but not so much when he’s the one so exhausted that he can barely hold onto a sword, his persona flickering in and out like the static on a tv.  
  
Today is one of those days. He’d worked himself far too hard the night before—harder than usual because Death had been after you, the sound of clinking chains haunting the corridors. It had been almost impossible to find a warp point at the speed you were moving—just staircase after staircase until finally, finally you’d spotted the green light of the warp pad.  
  
It had sucked, and you remember how determined the guy had looked, half supporting Yukari after she’d taken a bad blow to the head from one of the shadows.  
  
When he shows up for breakfast you can tell that he’s starting to get sick, face deathly pale save for the fever-brightness of his cheeks. His hair hangs lank and listless and he coughs into his fist so often while you’re all eating that you lose count. When he moves towards the door, you block his path, a fist to the door frame. He looks at you with exhausted eyes, seeming dopily confused, and it isn’t until you shake your head that his face sets into that familiar brand of determination that managed to keep you all alive last night.  
  
“You’re not going,” you tell him, watching out of the corner of your eye as Mitsuru heads everyone else out the back door. You love how good she is at picking up on what you need her to do.  
  
He frowns, cheeks going even redder with something that might be embarrassment, anger, or both. “Yes, I am,” he challenges you, voice raspy, but his shoulders straightening so that he’s standing at his full height. You’ve seen him take out dozens of shadows without breaking a sweat, so you know he’s dangerous, but here and now, where he barely reaches your chin and looks like a strong breeze might blow him over? He looks like a weak puppy, struggling to prove itself.  
  
“No,” you say, grabbing hold of his shoulders. You spin him around. “You’re not.”  
  
He protests as you lead him up the stairs, but they’re weak little things, and the skin of his arms is hot beneath your fingers. It makes you want to tsk at him, like he’s a naughty kid, but you refrain both for his sake and yours. Acting like a doting mother is one thing, but to go so far as to practically channel one? You would never live it down if the word got out to Junpei.  
  
You think about getting him to his room, but his skin is hot and clammy, sweat beneath your palm, so you turn him towards the bathroom.  
  
There are some more token protests once you get him inside, his cheeks flaring bright red when you just stare at him until he starts pulling off his clothes.  
  
You’ve seen him naked before, of course. You live in a dorm, after all, but somehow that doesn’t prepare you for the sight of him bare and shivering before you, goosebumps appearing all over his body. He stares at you for a moment, gaze challenging, stance proud, and for all that he’s the quietest of everyone, you forget how loudly those glares of his speak. You don’t break eye contact, at first, because for an overwhelming moment your instincts kick in—screaming to never, ever be the first to break eye contact with a predator.  
  
But then you reign yourself in and brush past him so you can turn on the bath.  
  
“Get in,” you tell him when it’s full, and he slinks past you, giving you a dirty look as he slides into the water. He shivers all over once he’s submerged, biting down on his lower lip, and you can tell that he’s running cold right now despite the fever—that the heat of the water hurts. The sight of him in pain nearly has you reaching for your evoker, but you shrug the urge off when he relaxes back into the water with a sigh, toes uncurling.  
  
His breathing is just on the wrong side of wheezy, so you stare at him as he scoots down so he can dunk his head back, wetting his hair. It’s... strangely attractive the way the water beads in his eye lashes, his chest slick and his mouth open, almost like—  
  
It’s your turn to blush, and when he looks at you he smirks. The kid’s quiet, serious to a fault, so it’s hard to remember sometimes that his best friend is Junpei. Now though, you can see it in the wicked curve of his mouth and the way he cocks his brow at you when he asks, “Are you planning on joining me?”  
  
You hesitate, because the tub is technically big enough for two people, but none of you have really used it that way, preferring to use the showers if there’s more than one person in the room. After a moment though, you shake your head. And then he... he pouts at you, bottom lip jutted out just slightly enough for you to want to bite it.  
  
The impulse takes you by surprise, but you don’t push it away. Instead you turn the idea over in your head as you watch him soak—as he soaps up his body unreasonably slow, his gaze flicking shyly over to you every once in awhile. When he reaches for the shampoo you surprise yourself again by snatching it out of his grasp and rolling your sleeves up before squirting some of it onto your hands.  
  
His breath hitches as you thread your fingers through his hair, massaging his skull as you work the shampoo in. When you really dig your fingers in, he moans, the sound going straight to your groin. It makes you shiver and you know that he feels the movement, because he turns around in your arms and kisses you, wrapping wet arms around your waist.  
  
Again you hesitate, because his lips are slick and sweet against yours, but your conscience is shrieking at you in a voice that sounds far too much like Mitsuru to just walk away while you can.  
  
You might have pulled away, you think, if he hadn’t crawled out of the bath and into your lap—his spine arching as he pressed his hips to yours, a little gasp tickling at your lips. You shiver when he twists in your grip—he’s like some lithe little eel, or maybe a panther—but when you pull back to look at him his dark eyes are bright with lust. It makes something inside of you crack and then you’re kissing him back, hands going to his wet hips and lifting—  
  
He catches on fast, wrapping his legs around your waist and rubbing against you as you carry him down the hallway to your room, trying not to think about the camera in the hallway that’s picking this up. The footage will be downright obscene, him clinging to you—biting down your neck and pressing against you like he’s determined to try your patience enough that you just decide to fuck him up against the wall. You know how to delete footage from the cameras though, remember it from when Shinji used to press you down into his sheets and fuck you until your legs turned to jelly.  
  
Once you’re in the privacy of your room, you toss him onto the bed—laughing under your breath when he lands with a soft oomph and glares at you, lips slick and swollen. There’s lube and condoms in your drawer, which you make a grab for as he valiantly tries to murder your zipper. You toss them on the bed and shimmy out of the rest of your clothes, smirking when Minato makes a needy noise in the back of his throat and reaches out so he can catch your hips, ducking his head down and taking you into his mouth as if he’s starved for it. It makes you gasp, your dick hitting the back of his throat in one go—and you try to pull back, give him room to breathe so he doesn’t gag, but he just grabs a handful of your ass and drags you back in, swallowing around you, the feel of his throat working against your dick almost sinful.  
  
“Fuck,” you groan, and when you chance a glance down at him, his eyes are laughing as he watches you, cheeks hollowed out but a smirk curling the edges of his lip. You glare at him, but you can’t hold it for long as he pulls back and starts sucking in earnest.  
  
It’s too good, his mouth hot around your dick, and you have to push him back after a few minutes before you wind up embarrassing yourself. He takes it in stride, sitting up in one smooth motion so he can kiss you again, letting you bear him down onto the sheets as you taste yourself on his tongue. He moves against you, his hips grinding into yours and it’s just so fast—  
  
You don’t think you’ve fucked anyone quite like him, even Shinji hadn’t been this passionate about sex—he’d liked it sure—liked the way you wailed his name, his cock so deep inside you. He liked to whisper the dirtiest things into your ear as he thrust into you, things that made you clench around him and come with your dick untouched, and afterwards he would sit back and laugh against the side of your neck—  
  
Minato’s like that and more. You think that if you let him, he would use your dick like a toy—fuck himself back onto it, bouncing in your lap. The thought alone is enough to make you whimper and he flashes you a quick smirk, grabbing the lube and spreading it across his fingers before burying two inside of himself. You can’t help yourself, whimpering again as you watch him arch against your sheets, cock flushed and bobbing as he fucks himself onto his own fingers, his mouth red and open and so fucking wet.  
  
It isn’t long before he’s grabbing at your hips, hooking his legs over your shoulders and using the hold to yank you in. It makes you wobble precariously and he laughs against your lips as your dick brushes against his hole. You’re forgetting something, you think, rubbing yourself against his hole—teasing him until he growls and tries to flip you over—  
  
“Are you clean?” you whimper, and you know you’re not being very safe—know that for all the kid’s a fantastic leader that he gets around. Your room is right across from his, so you know when he brings girls home, and you’ve seen that Ryoji kid go into his room and not come out for hours.  
  
After a moment he stops trying to fuck back onto your cock long enough to gasp, “yes, yes, I’ve used protection with everyone else, just please,” and that’s enough for you.  
  
That first thrust in makes your mind go blank, just shuddering as Minato keens and arches so high off the bed that your hands slip off of his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s panting, and you’ve never heard him swear before, even in the height of battle, so it surprises you when he whimpers, “fuck me, please,” in this broken, beautiful sounding voice—  
  
So you fuck him, as hard and fast as he asks for it, until you're both damp with sweat and muffling curses into each other’s skin. He’s absolutely lovely to watch, eyelashes fluttering, rolling those narrow hips of his against you. He loves it, and you aren’t one for dirty talk, not like Shinji was, but the way he’s using your cock makes you just ache to whisper filthy things into his ear. So you do, your breath hot in his ear, voice catching on words like “cockslut” and “fucking beautiful” until Minato’s shaking and whimpering, getting louder and louder as he tells you to fuck him harder, harder, harder—  
  
His back arches clear off the bed when he comes, and you can feel the muscles in his legs flexing as his toes curl, coming all over the both of you, and clenching around you—  
  
You’ve never come inside another person. The only other time you hadn’t used protection had been with Shinji, and you’d been on the receiving end of that, so you know how it feels for him. You know how it’s nothing but a vague pressure for that first moment, until you notice the wetness. You hadn’t much liked it, but Minato fucking loves it, writhing even after you pull out, getting a finger inside himself so he can play with it, swirl it around inside and fuck—  
  
You can barely breathe, as you watch him quiet, coming down from his high. He slumps against you after a few moments, a sigh of contentment making its way past his lips.  
  
“Thought you were supposed to be sick,” you finally say, breathing it into the quiet, and he laughs against your shoulder and shrugs.  
  
“I am,” he tells you. “Fucking tends to make me forget the fever. It’s nice.”  
  
You give him an odd look, but decide not to argue. If he wants to use sex as a form of medicine, who are you to stop him?  
  
(Three days later, you’re the sick one. You decide to see if his theory has any merit.)


End file.
